


Perks

by nsfwordwitch (vulpineRaconteur)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Trans Male Character, one-night stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineRaconteur/pseuds/nsfwordwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela never sleeps alone in Skyhold.  (For the kink meme.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perks

There are a lot of perks to being an Inquisition agent, Isabela thinks. They take care of you, don’t skimp on healers or supplies (and if you’re in with everyone’s best friend Varric, they don’t skimp on loot either). But her favorite part is Skyhold’s never-ending parade of beautiful people to sleep with. She’s been working for the Inquisition for some time now, and has yet to spend a night in the stronghold alone. Tonight would be no exception.

She goes straight from her bath to the tavern, and it’s bustling as ever. She gets a small drink for herself and surveys the crowd. There’s a few familiar faces, but she’s looking for someone new tonight. That’s when she spies the Chargers. She’s heard a lot about them, of course, and has seen them from afar, but their paths have never quite crossed. Looking over the lot of them, she has quite a few options. The one she settles on, though, is the strapping Tevinter boy. Maker but he looks young. But, she supposes, with thirty-nine years behind her (that she’ll admit to), that’s more likely her problem, not his.

She finds a beam to lean against and faces the lad, keeping her seductress eyes on him. His companions notice her before he does, and nudge him to look in her direction. When he does, she gives him a saucy wink. His friends, the Dalish elf and the dwarf, push at him until he gets out of his seat, blushing and oh Maker, look at that smile.

He comes up to her and tries to stand all casual, only managing to look a little stiff. It’s cute. “Can I, uh,” he points at her empty glass, “buy you another?”

“You could,” Isabela says, keeping her eyes on him. So much armor. She can’t wait to find out what he looks like without it. “On the other hand, I have some very nice Rivaini rum in my room. Care to give it a taste?”

His blush deepens, but he plays it off, laughs and tells her “Sounds good to me, ma’am.”

“Then what are we waiting for? But let’s kill this ‘ma’am’ business now, alright?” She takes one of his hands in hers and interlaces their fingers. “Call me Isabela.”

“Krem. I’m Krem.”

She leads him out the tavern door and up onto the battlements. She has one of the fanciest guest rooms in Skyhold (perks) but even after dark, it’s no fun walking past all the castle’s prying eyes to get to it. So they go through the empty towers on the walls until they’re overlooking the garden. Isabela jumps over the railing onto a sloped roof just below the balcony to the guest rooms. Krem laughs and jumps after her, almost slipping over the side into the garden. She catches him and pulls him to her body. He’s blushing again as she holds him steady. “One more leap,” she says.

He looks around. “Where to?”

“Hold on tight.” She takes her miniature crossbow from her belt, aims it at the eaves of the balcony above, and fires. The cable yanks them up, over the railing, and they drop gracelessly onto the stone below. They’re all over each other, limbs tangled, and they laugh, Krem in relief.

“Don’t you dare,” he says, “do that again.”

She shrugs, chest pressed to his chest. “Can’t make any promises, sweet thing.” She closes the short gap between their lips, and they kiss for a while, on the floor of the balcony. Isabela’s hand searches for the edge of his armor, for an entry point, for some skin. He breaks their faces apart.

“Listen,” he says, holding her gaze very seriously. “Once we get my trousers off, you might be…surprised by what you find. It might not be what you expect.”

“I try not have expectations,” she tells him, already having cottoned on to his point. “It makes everything that happens like a nice little gift from the Maker.”

A half-sad smirk crosses his face. “You might not think this one is so nice.”

“Krem,” she says, and she feels his body tense. “Whatever you have between your legs, I can make you see stars.” She leans forward, lips almost on his ear. “Before the night’s over, they’ll hear you screaming my name in the Anderfels.” He shivers, and his hands on her waist grip her tighter. _Soldiers_ , Isabela thinks. _Too easy_.

They climb to their feet and she pulls him by the hand to her room. They get inside and the door is barely closed before they’re kissing again, and she’s pulling him down to her so he kisses her harder, and she hmms in appreciation before breaking away. “Do you need a hand getting all that off?” she asks, indicating the armor.

“No,” he pants, “I can do it myself.”

“Good,” she says, and throws herself onto her big gorgeous bed. She takes the rum and two glasses off her night stand. “Then you can take it off, and I can sit over here and watch.”

He smiles, blush intact, and starts with the gloves. Then the chest piece, the arms, with a loose linen shirt underneath, and he can’t seem to meet Isabela’s eyes over her glass. He still has the greaves and boots on, but she tells him “That’ll do for now.” She pats the bed beside her. “Come try the rum, sweet thing.”

Krem sits on the bed and takes the offered glass. “Thank you, but that isn’t why I came up here with you.”

“That’s a relief,” she says. She’s sitting with her back to the headboard, and Krem is on the edge of the bed near the end. She lifts one boot in the air. “What do you think,” she asks, “on or off?”

He looks at her boots and licks his lips unconsciously. “With legs like those? I say off.”

“Mm, good reasoning,” she says. “But they aren’t going to take themselves off.”

He downs the rum and hands her the glass back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Ugh, I _said_ no _ma’am!_ ” He’s already got most of the buckles undone on the first boot.

“Sorry ma’am,” he says, grinning, pulling the boot free. She kicks him in the head with her naked foot, but he just grabs it and lays a kiss on her ankle. He draws his nose up her leg, laying himself down on the bed as he does. He ends up with his chest pressed to the bedspread with his face at the edge of her skirt. He glances up at her, eyebrows raised.

“Well don’t tease a girl, Krem,” she says. He lifts her skirt and finds she’s wearing nothing underneath.

“You were prepared,” he says, voice a little weak.

“I’m _always_ prepared,” she tells him. He laughs and plants a kiss to her inner thigh, which turns into nibbling her inner thigh and sucking at her inner thigh and oh yes, there’s his tongue, and he drags his face up to her crotch, and her breath hitches when his cheek brushes her lips. He noses at her hair for a moment, then draws his tongue across her lips. She lets out a gasp that becomes a sigh and pushes herself into his face.

He reaches up and grabs her ass with both hands, pulls her into his mouth and she shouts wordlessly. He parts her lips with his tongue, drags it across her clit and she squirms.

“Maker,” she pants, “you certainly know what you’re doing.” This only spurs him on, and her vision blurs for a moment. She crosses her legs over his back, pressing him into her crotch. When he comes up for air she says “C’mere,” and pulls him up.

They kiss, and she’s sweet in his mouth. She reaches under his shirt and presses her hands to his bare back. She finds the edge of the bindings she knew would be there, and leaves them be. His hands find her breasts and she gasps in surprise.

Krem squeezes them and she moans appreciatively, and he lets out a high-pitched “hunh” in response. Isabela pulls his head to her neck and nibbles at his ear. “Oh but you will make the best noises for me, won’t you, sweet thing?”

He grips her tighter in response, and she laughs. “Let’s get the rest of that armor off, shall we?”

He hastens off the bed, fumbles with all his straps and buckles, and she can’t help but distract him all the while. She kneels behind him on the bed and draws her fingers across his back, his torso, grazing at the edge of his trousers. He gasps. “Maker, what are you doing to me?” he says.

The armor’s gone and he’s down to linen trousers. Isabela points at them. “Off with those, too.”

He drops them, and she can feel his nervous energy as he does. She lays back on the bed and pulls him on top of her. She pulls his face down for a long kiss, to keep him occupied while her hand sneaks up to his crotch. Krem gasps and moans when she makes contact, and when she puts first one finger, then two inside him (Maker, he’s already so wet), he quivers and falls, unable to support himself.

Isabela keeps him like this for a while, as he moans into her mouth, then she takes her hand back and smacks him smartly on the ass. “Scoot up,” she says.

“S—sorry?” His eyes are dazed and he has to blink a few times to see her properly.

“I want you sitting on my face Krem.”

He sucks his breath in sharp, and hurries to comply. He kneels over her face, knees on either side of her head. She puts her hands on his lower back to support him. His loose shirt drops over her face, obscuring her from his view, so he tears it off. She gets distracted for a moment by his stomach, taut and curled over her. Then she meets his eyes and pulls him down.

He lets out a strangled cry when she makes contact, and he falls forward, hitting his forehead on the wall behind the bed. Isabela chuckles, and he feels it, jumping a little at the sensation. He laughs, but as she returns to the task at hand his breath catches and he sighs.

The sighs become soft, perfunctory moans, then more drawn out, then louder, interspersed with “Yes—“ and “That’s—“. It drives Isabela crazy. His fingers scrabble for something to grip on the wall and find nothing. She pulls her mouth back and, voice breathy, tells him “My hair—“

And his fingers are pushing back her bandana, threading tenderly into her hair, and he grips her head so gently, and she shivers and sucks on his clit, and Krem cries out “Oh” but it’s long, a release, and “Yes” but it slides so easy into her name, and then “Oh, Isabela, yes” are the only words he knows, until he shouts, clenching everything, his face squeezing tight.

And Krem relaxes, slips off her all shaky and lands with a “hah” on the bed beside her. She turns to him, supports her head with her hand, and wipes her mouth clean. She smiles. “Speechless, sweet thing?”

He laughs. That’s a yes, then. She lays back, pleased with herself, but Krem flips over, leans over her. “I dunno about the Anderfels,” he says, one hand sliding up her skirt, “but let’s see about Val Royeaux.”


End file.
